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She will rise up from the water, in the midday afternoon
Lightly vaulting from the darkness, wearing beads of jewel-toned sea
Splashing forth as if a fountain,  spilling locks of brilliant gold
Wearing combs adorned with seashells, from her home deep in the cold

She has no tongue, she has no tears
She had no soul, she has no fear
No need for air, her hair is fair
Her eyes are clear with wanton lairs
She is a siren, she is an angel, she is a myth, for many seasons
Is she real, or apparition…, are we wary of her reasons?

She will stretch out her long tail, on bed of kelp-strewn sand
Soaking up the violet rays, to dry her golden strands
She bewitches with amusement, seduces with her charm
While the darting through the sailor's lust, into her captive arms
She is sometimes called  illusion, and she has no given name
But she lures the souls of swarthy seamen, deep within a cage

Her origins are buried in the past, in the language of forgetting
Her repertoire of movement, and exquisite, agile form
A creature born of beauty, enchantment with a tail
Looking for her unfound love, unless it cannot be
But marry one, and she becomes...
Their own for company   


.........................................
For Shadow Hamilton's  Contest:  Mythological Animals or Birds Contest
6/4/13

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